I Should Live in Salt
by Kale12
Summary: Exam room hook-ups and DTRs. Written to fill fromiftowhen's TMP Hiatus Fic-a-thon prompt over at livejournal.


So I came across this delicious prompt from fromiftowhen while scouring the livejournal hiatus fic-a-thon: _Secret dating would be a lot less stressful if Jeremy didn't know exactly what you look like after a quick exam room hookup. _Not sure how faithfully I executed it, but it was still a lot of fun. And for those of you getting a little fed up with my angst, perhaps this will be more to your taste?

A thousand thank-yous to rikyl for being a wonderful beta!

As always, I do not own any of these characters. Title taken from The National's song of the same name.

* * *

"Can we maybe not tell anyone about this?" she blurts out suddenly, and even though Danny's face is registering the barest glimpse of hurt, she can't bring herself to completely regret it. "I mean, it's just that things are already going to be not great with Cliff, and this is all so new and weird, but good weird," she corrects hastily, "and I just want to kind of enjoy having it to ourselves, right?" she finishes lamely.

Danny shrugs and doesn't completely meet her eyes. "Uh…yeah. Yeah, I get it. Nobody else's business."

They've been lying in his bed, naked and exhausted, from the trip, from too many feelings all at once, from good, sweaty sex that they were using to say all the things they couldn't just yet. She should be sated and drowsy and ready to pass out but instead her brain is buzzing, literally buzzing, she swears, and she thinks it's maybe moving down to her fingers and toes and is she twitching? She feels like she might be twitching. Yes, little toe definitely twitching.

"Mindy?"

"Yes?" She doesn't squeak, barely.

"You ok? Should we maybe talk about…" he gestures vaguely, helplessly, trailing off.

"Um. No. I mean, not this second. And actually, please don't freak out –"

"That's a little counterproductive."

"- but I think I kind of need to go home tonight, if that's ok? Because I have a lot of feelings, and they're 83% awesome, but I really need to just exfoliate and let myself process all of this."

He's quiet.

"Danny, I mean it, no freaking out, ok? It's just that my toe is twitching, and that means my left eyelid is next, and I'm not ready for you to see that."

He clears his throat and rubs her cheekbone with his thumb. She gets a little distracted when he touches her like that. Or at all, really. "Just…promise me you're coming back?" His voice is hoarse, and he kisses her so sweetly she forgets to breathe.

She barely makes it past his front door before she turns around and marches right back into his arms.

* * *

She can't stop giggling at work. But like, hysterical, nervous giggling that is not even a little bit attractive. See, the reason she so rarely keeps secrets (outside of her refreshingly open personality) is because she has no poker face whatsoever. None. Rishi managed to scam her out of a month's worth of allowance before she wised up and switched to Uno.

Danny sort of wears his heart on his sleeve, too, but no one can actually tell the difference between Danny-smoldering and Danny-passionately-upset-about-the-corner-deli-closing. Unless you're the recipient of said smoldering glances, in which case you have no trouble at all. He has a way of shooting glances at her when she least expects it, and each time, it's like a mini-sun blossoms inside her and she just wants to smile so big and the excitement is bursting out of her like sparklers at her fingertips. She thinks that if everyone could feel this way all the time, they'd never touch cocaine. It also makes her want to drag him to her office and have her way with him, which she can't do, because, hello, secret relationship.

"Mindy, you're looking remarkably well this morning." Jeremy sidles up to her unexpectedly, and has the unfortunate effect of breaking Danny off mid-smolder. It's a shame, too, because she can't even properly appreciate the look of frank admiration Jeremy is giving her when she's distractedly mourning the loss of Danny's bedroom eyes.

"Why thank you, Dr. Reed!" she manages to beam up at him. She's not going to say no to a compliment, especially not from someone she used to sleep with.

"Are you doing something different? With your makeup, perhaps?"

It takes all her self-control not to look up at Danny, so much so that she can't suppress the little manic half-giggle that rises up at the thought of what exactly she's doing differently. Before she can answer, there's a _thump_ of folders being set none too gently on the counter.

"If you two are done flirting," Danny practically snarls, "some of us have patients to see."

"I think Danny needs to try whatever it is you're doing," remarks Jeremy.

* * *

"Are you kidding me? That's the second number you've gotten today. And I'm not even counting the free hot dog from the vendor on 21st," Danny says, frustration giving his voice an edge. Mindy notes that he's only at semi-Italian levels of gesticulation, so she figures she's got a while to go before he seriously blows up.

"Oh, excuse me for being an attractive woman. Besides, I shared that hot dog."

"One bite," he protests.

"You take really big bites, man. You chomped off half of that sucker in one go."

"I did not. Whatever. My point is that it wouldn't kill you to stop _encouraging_ these dudes," he grumbles.

"Ex-squeeze me?" She stops short, and he stumbles. "How dare you? I have a naturally bubbly personality, and it's not my fault that other people appreciate it," she sniffs.

"You're right. In fact, it's worse than being encouraging; it's downright lying, because you're letting these guys think they have a chance."

"Well, technically – "

"Don't you finish that, Mindy, so help me."

"Fine. What do you want me to do? Stop smiling? Not make eye contact with unmarried men between the ages of 18 and 60?"

"The married ones, too."

"Danny!"

"You could smile a little less."

"I am going to murder you in your sleep."

"Why can't you just make it clear that you've already got someone?"

"I refuse to say 'Keep the change, I'm getting laid' to the falafel guy."

"You don't have to say anything. You can hold my hand or something."

"Danny, you know that my hand lotion and your freakishly sweaty palms make for a terrible combination."

"Mindy."

"Ugh, Danny. We're still too close to the office, ok? You know how I feel about this."

His frustrated sigh seems to cut through her.

* * *

So the thing is, she's kind of proud of her dating history. She's a worldly, experienced thirty-something à la _Sex and the City_, and she's down with owning her sexuality. Also, she's dated some pretty smokin' dudes.

Unfortunately, a lot of those dudes are all still within a 500 foot radius, and she's not exactly on great terms with all of them – Cliff uses the stairs pretty exclusively these days, and the less said about the midwives, the better. And Jeremy…

She and Jeremy have only ever really had two things in common – a love of sex and an appreciation for pretty things. Once the sex was off the table (literally and figuratively), it was shockingly easy to transition him firmly into the friend zone. Does she think about him occasionally? Of course. Does she also similarly reminisce about her favorite pink vibrator? Yep. Case closed.

He suspects something's up, though. She's caught him looking at her quizzically more than once, as though he knows something's off but can't quite put his finger on it.

It's not that she isn't torn. There's a part of her that's _dying_ to call Danny her boyfriend. It's been nothing short of Herculean not to tell people. But while she generally has few qualms about being the subject of workplace gossip, she hates the idea of people lumping Danny in with the rest of her romantic entanglements. She's got enough of her own doubts; the last thing she needs are the sidelong glances that would accompany any announcement of a new boyfriend, especially if that boyfriend was one Danny Castellano.

* * *

They last about a week before they give in and start having sex at the office. She can't help it, ok? Competence is a total aphrodisiac and Danny's got it in spades. They figure out quick that they both really like playing doctor, and after that it's basically a free-for-all. They've been pretty lucky about not getting caught, but it helps to have a self-absorbed, easily distractible staff.

They usually end up in her office, because she learned her lesson after the Owlie Incidient of '14 and had locks installed immediately. Lately though, they've been favoring the last exam room for its easy access to cleaning supplies.

He's got her bent over the exam table, skirts hiked up, and she's about three seconds from seeing stars, when he blindsides her.

"Mindy, what are we doing here?"

"Babe, you know this is more comfortable than the hot pipe room."

"No, Min. I mean what are _we_ doing? Where is this going?"

"I am going to take your words at face value and say that _we_ are trying to get it on, and that this was supposed to be going to a happy place for both of us, but clearly that is no longer the case."

"Min, c'mon, I just want to talk."

"Danny! Are you seriously trying to have a DTR while you're _still inside me_?"

"No! I mean, yes. I think! What does DVR have to do with it?"

"D-T-R, Danny. _Define the relationship_."

"Oh. Then yeah, that's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to define things."

"And you choose NOW?"

"It's the only way I can pin you down!" He paused. "That's actually kind of fu-"

"Argh! Don't you finish that. Get off of me! And out of me!"

"We're not done here!"

"Oh, yes we are!"

She gets about five steps outside of the exam room before crashing into Jeremy.

"Oof, Mindy. You're still here?"

"Just finishing up some…something. Paperwork. Excuse me."

"Wait a minute," he says, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to take a good look at her. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"Your necklace is caught on your buttons, your eyeliner is smudged, and you've got a clump of hair falling from where it was pinned back this morning. You're seeing someone!" he announces smugly.

"I am _not_," she hisses.

"Ah, but my dear. You forget that I know exactly what you look like post-shag. Quite a good look for you, I might add. Platonically speaking, of course."

"Jeremy, let me spell it out for you - I'm not shagging anyone, I'm not dating anyone. There is no one special in my life, are we clear?"

"Crystal." But it's Danny's voice answering, and it's his disappointed face that she sees when she turns around.

* * *

He doesn't open the first time she knocks, or the second. In fact, it takes three and a half minutes of steady knocking interspersed with doorbell pushing and texting before the door swings open.

"What?" he barks. He's fresh out of the shower, hair still wet and mussed, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't actively plotting how to jump him first and talk later. He seems to pick up on this, though, and starts to swing the door closed.

"Wait!"

"What, Min?" He sounds more weary than mad, now, and she's not sure she likes it any better.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you?" he asks quietly, still not moving to let her in.

She digs her hands into her sweatshirt pockets and takes a deep breath. "When I was little, my mom used to collect these really pretty glass figurines, like ballerinas and stuff, and I loved them. She used to keep them in the china cabinet and every once in awhile, if I begged hard enough, she would take them out and let me play with them. But as soon as she set them down in front of me, I wouldn't want to play with them anymore." He hasn't shut the door on her yet; she's choosing to take that as a sign to continue. "I was scared to touch them. I was scared to even look at them, you know? They were so fragile, and it seemed better to just not pick them up than to accidentally break something so beautiful and make my mom sad."

"Did you ever break one?"

"Yeah."

"C'mere," he says, and pulls her tightly against him. She can barely breathe; she doesn't know if it's from his arms around her or if she wants to laugh or cry and instead just settles for a few nervous giggles before crying a little anyway.

He's still holding her, hours later in bed. "So," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We doing this?"

"Yes, Danny, I believe we are."

"I'm pretty good at this DTR stuff, huh?"

"Quit while you're ahead, babe."


End file.
